Hitting
Hitting

TLE Cinco, Gucci Mane - Hitting Lyrics

3

Hitting Lyrics

Huh, 1-0-1-7 Mafia
TLE Cinco, it's Gucci
Go

Ayy, 200K ain't nothin', no cap, these cap-ass niggas be dissin'
Hey, ayy, broad day, I'ma pull up hittin' (hittin', hittin', hittin', hittin')
They say he tryna be Cinco, no the fuck he didn't no
I did this shit for the hood and the trenches, ayy
Flexin' these racks, need designer for fits
No can't compare me to niggas, I'm different, ayy

Salute any nigga if he fucked my bitch
I was locked up, they like, "Cinc', where the fuck you been?"
I'm sippin' real codeine, no cup of gin
And if I fuck one time, I can fuck again (ayy)
I'm on that bullshit right now, ayy, they like, "Big Cinc' just popped out"
I got a switch on the Glick, turn his shirt to a nightgown
Ayy, all of a sudden, nigga dissin', they come up missin'
Ayy, I get this shit, just as long as they printed
Ayy, caught me an opp, he sprinted
Hey, I'm mixin' drank with the drank and I feel like a chemist
Fine lil' bitch wanna drank it, pourin'
But I can't cuff no ho', I'm sorry (hey, hey)
Ayy, I'm on the stay with a ratchet, mornin'
That fire, these niggas knowin' the hardest, ayy
Get paid for this shit, I'm a real deal artist
And I ain't fuck with the school, I'm retarded
Hey, I'm in the foreign in the front, with a real deal barbie
This codeine real deal purple like Barney (ayy)
Five-hundred shots in this motherfuckin' truck
Nigga, I get the drop and I'm shootin' it off
Soon as I get the number, I'm suitin' up
Big boss Cinc', I'm cool as fuck
Trapped out, I can't serve no grams
Ayy, if I can't catch him, I'm whackin' that man
She just slap him, blow like fan
These niggas cappin', I know they a fan
I told him take off, a fact, let 'em know you ain't chopstick
Beat, I make him dance
I don't really like that bitch, quit playin'
I'm sayin', get to that check and I do it again

Ayy, 200K ain't nothin', no cap, these cap-ass niggas be dissin'
Hey, ayy, broad day, I'ma pull up hittin' (hittin', hittin', hittin', hittin')
They say he tryna be Cinco, no the fuck he didn't no
I did this shit for the hood and the trenches, ayy
Flexin' these racks, need designer for fits
No can't compare me to niggas, I'm different, ayy
Ayy, 200K ain't nothin', no cap, these cap-ass niggas be dissin'
Hey, ayy, broad day, I'ma pull up hittin' (hittin', hittin', hittin', hittin')
They say he tryna be Cinco, no the fuck he didn't no
I did this shit for the hood and the trenches, ayy
Flexin' these racks, need designer for fits
No can't compare me to niggas, I'm different, ayy (go)

Ice on my neck, ice on my wrist, all of my shit be hittin' (brr)
How you a rapper, ain't makin' no money?
Boy, you should think about quittin' (well, damn)
I don't do shit for the love or the fun, I do this shit for the millions (milli's)
Rap nigga need to just stay in they bag, but they keep stayin' in they feelings (bitch)
Don't bring up my ex-hoes, I left them all in the trenches (hoes)
Opinions just like assholes, everyone got an opinion (opinion)
Guwop teamed with Cinco, we star, just like Ringo
Pull up and the kids scream, "Bingo," niggas keep stealin' my lingo (well, damn)
Standin' on top of you, move like the mafia
Who want fish scale, 'cause we keep them Tilapias (skrrt)
Wop singin' rappers who trappers went popular
If he weren't rappin', they probably be robbin' you (wow)
Say you want smoke with my crew, then what's stoppin' ya? (smoke)
Know we keep two's, we tote hammers like carpenters
So Icy Boyz, we done broke the thermometers
Stack off the winter, just dipped for the summer (it's Gucci)

Ayy, 200K ain't nothin', no cap, these cap-ass niggas be dissin'
Hey, ayy, broad day, I'ma pull up hittin' (hittin', hittin', hittin', hittin')
They say he tryna be Cinco, no the fuck he didn't no
I did this shit for the hood and the trenches, ayy
Flexin' these racks, need designer for fits
No can't compare me to niggas, I'm different, ayy
Ayy, 200K ain't nothin', no cap, these cap-ass niggas be dissin'
Hey, ayy, broad day, I'ma pull up hittin' (hittin', hittin', hittin', hittin')
They say he tryna be Cinco, no the fuck he didn't no
I did this shit for the hood and the trenches, ayy
Flexin' these racks, need designer for fits
No can't compare me to niggas, I'm different, ayy

Writer(s): Carzell Derrell Frost, Jonathan Coleman, Milan Szelcsanyi
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Downtown Music Publishing, Songtrust Ave
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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